The Central Science
by grendels
Summary: Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception. /Future!fic, AlecxIsabelle, Alec/Magnus/
1. Chapter 1: Zinc

_**Title:** The Central Science (1/?)  
**Author:** Gema  
**Word Count: **~2,000  
**Summary: **Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception.  
**Pairings:** Alec/Magnus, AlecxIsabelle, one-sided SimonxIsabelle  
**Warnings:** Nothing really, not yet. Will get worse in progressing chapters.  
**Disclaimer:** The characters (with the exceptions of Jason Clearwater and Robert Longfellow) and universe presented in this are property of Cassandra Clare, not me. I am merely a fan who writes for her own amusement.  
**Note:** Hi everyone :] I'm not dead yet. I'm really excited about this fic, considering it may be the first one I actually ever finish. Much love to Loki (xlokifoxx) for beta-ing this for me. She's a saint. I have the second and third chapters all written and I'm starting on the fourth pretty soon so updates should come fairly regularly. Thanks so much to everyone who reads/comments. _

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_Zinc: (Zn) 30._

_a moderately reactive metal and a strong reducing agent_

:::

There's a break in the conversation when Alec's phone rings, vibrating across the tabletop like some mad whirling dervish. "Call From Jason Clearwater." The phone's blaring electronic voice announces. The couple two tables over shoots Alec a disapproving look before turning back to their meal. He ignores it, staring vacantly at the offending cellular device like it's done something vaguely disappointing and he's debating between scolding it or just letting it go. The electronic voice announces the caller's name once again. Alec does nothing.

"Are you going to get that?" Magnus inquires, raising an eyebrow. Alec just shrugs, resting his chin on his hand as he waits for the phone to shut up. It stops after about a half minute. "Who was calling?" Magnus asks nonchalantly. He doesn't want to sound like he particularly cares, because Alec might take that as an indication of him being jealous and that's the last conversation Magnus wants to get into with him, especially here, especially now. Alec chews on his lip, reaching for his fork so he can resume his previous engaging activity of staring at the table and picking at his steamed vegetables.

They're out for dinner, to commemorate the rare occasion of not just one, but both of them getting off of work on time for once. Sometimes it feels like years since they made the move to Alicante so that Magnus could take up the Lilithian Senate seat, other times merely weeks. For the record, it has been two years, seven months, two weeks and five days.

Not that he's counting.

Now that his term has ended for the year, they could, in all theory, move back to the Brooklyn loft until re-elections came along, but he knows it would be fruitless. No other warlock was insane enough to want the job and he would win the election by proxy, as he had for the past two years. And, regardless, moving would force Alec to switch jobs. The Council would surely give him a position in New York, but even if he won't admit it (and, being Alec, he never does) he _loves_ his job in Alicante. It wouldn't be the same in New York.

His phone is ringing again and, though this could just be Magnus's ears playing tricks on him, it's ringing a little louder, vibrating a little harder, as though to catch Alec's attention. But Alec just sits back and rests his elbows on the arms of his chair, biting his thumbnail and staring blankly at the table. He must have turned something on the phone off because it no longer announces who's calling, but the noise is distracting all the same and it's drawing more than a few angry glares from the surrounding tables.

"Sure you're not going to get that?" Magnus asks once more, leaning forward slightly. Alec shakes his head.

"I'm sure it's not urgent."

"Are you positive? I won't mind. You really should answer it."

"No, Magnus, it's alright."

He takes a bite of his pasta, hardly tasting it, though he's sure it's very good (it better be good, for the price tag attached to it). He's more occupied with the person on the other end of the phone; the one Alec refuses to talk to. He's more than used to his boyfriend's secretive calls and code worded gibberish because it's all part of his job. Occupational hazards and all that. But normally, the minute Alec's phone emits any sort of sound or vibration (and sometimes even when it doesn't), it's out of his pocket or off the table or retrieved from wherever it is and answered before Magnus can snap his fingers twice. There are a lot of things you can say about Alec, but not being dedicated to his job certainly wasn't one of them.

The phone falls quiet and their table is awkwardly silent once again, the clatter of silverware and soft conversation from the surrounding tables filling the space where their own banter should have been. Something's bothering him. Magnus can tell. He'd bet all the glittery eyeshadow that money could buy on the thought that Alec knows exactly what the person on the other end of that phone call is going to tell him. And in the classic Alec Lightwood way, he's avoiding it and avoiding it and avoiding it.

Not more than a minute of silence goes by before the ringing starts up again. Like the two previous instances before it, Alec sits and does nothing. It vibrates once, twice, a third time and then-

Magnus throws down his fork. "Goddamit it, Alec, answer your fucking phone."

"Magnus, it's not anything-"

Gold eyes narrow, glare into blank blue ones.

'Answer. The Fucking. Phone."

Magnus spits the order through his teeth, immediately regretting the harsh edge of his words the minute they leave his mouth. Alec sighs, grabs his cell and hits the call button before pressing it to his ear and answering with a crisp-

'Major Lightwood speaking."

The title is fairly new, awarded just a few short days ago at a small pomp-and-circumstance ceremony at the Hall of Accords. Alec has tried to explain the difference between and Major and a Commander to him (they're both of equal importance, they just do different jobs, right?) and the significance of the elevation from Captain to Major (don't even get Magnus started on that one). He's never really been all that interested in the military and politics but he nods and listens along, for Alec's sake more than his.

"Yes, I was aware."

Something is definitely wrong. Alec's mouth is twisted off to the side, his face draining of the little color it possesses. Magnus leans forward subtly, trying to catch any sort of dialogue coming off the other end of the phone. Alec turns slightly, twisting in his chair in an attempt to move away.

"I was contacted by Booking early this morning….I thought it would be best if I stayed out of it. Conflict of interests and such…."

More muttering from the man on the other end of the phone. Alec's brow furrows and Magnus watches as he swallows heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing. The man on the end of the phone clears his throat, as though getting ready to say something uncomfortable. Magnus leans forward a little more and this time Alec doesn't turn away.

"_Major Lightwood, she…..she asked for you. For you to….to come in. To see you."_

Alec closes his eyes, makes a little sound of frustration or anger or sadness in the back of his throat.

"Who is he talking about, Alec?" Magnus asks, but Alec holds up his hand and then gestures to the phone, as if Magnus is an idiot and can't see that it's there. "I can see the phone, Alec, who are you talking to?"

"Magnus, I'm on the phone!" he hisses and Magnus can't help but roll his eyes because, oh please, who is the one who's over five hundred years old in this relationship? Alec has got to stop assuming that he's so much smarter because he's a goddamn Nephilim. Alec returns his attention to the conversation at hand, his expression return to that distressed look that alarms Magnus slightly. "Yes….yes, okay, of course, I'll be there immediately." Magnus sighs. Another night interrupted once again by the Council of Downworlders. He should be used to it by now, and in a way, he is, but he can't help that sinking feeling of disappointment whenever Alec has to walk out of a dinner or a trip somewhere or even just a night at home, watching dumb movies. The feeling has less to do with Alec's actual departure and more in correlation with the fact that Magnus knows that it isn't, and never will be, the last dinner, the last trip, the last night in that his boyfriend has to leave in order to service the demands of his job.

Alec hangs up and immediately buries his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his skin for a good half a minute before Magnus dares to ask. "What was that all about?" Alec swallows again, lowering his hands and reaching behind him to grab his suit coat off the back of his chair.

"It's my sister."

His sister. Magnus understands. He can't really remember Isabelle Lightwood; it's been almost, what, ten years now? He can recall long black hair and long pale legs and an attitude sharp enough to slice cloth. And he can remember as he knew her last- cold as ice, solid, almost psychotic in her intensity and he can remember Alec pleading with her, kneeling beside her as she stared out her window, clutching her hand and _begging_ her- "Please, Izzy, please just say _something, anything_. What happened to you? What happened to my baby sister?" He wasn't really around for the last few months before everything went to hell. All his knowledge stems from Alec and Jace's second hand accounts. They fought- Isabelle and Maryse and Robert- constantly. Isabelle was losing it, going from one extreme to another- ice cold to burning hot. Everything was something to overreact to. It was as though she had answered Alec's plea- to return to how she used to be- in the most extreme way. Suddenly, she was the old Isabelle Lightwood times ten. Partying constantly, showing up to dinner buzzed, leaving right after in the passenger seat of the cars of random men. She would come onto Jace, openly insult Clary, avoid Alec as though he carried the plague. This is the Isabelle Lightwood that Magnus remembers. She ran away, eventually. They woke up one morning and she was gone. Still registered with the Clave, but untraceable. Isabelle became a legend- stories would circulate in bars and clubs and Shadowhunter gatherings of the famed Lightwood girl, the one with a whip like lightning and eyes that lit up like the pits of hell when she was in the heat of battle, the one who ran away and had no ground connections anymore, but showed up to fight demons, just like the rest of them, before leaving immediately after. A phantom. There were those who claimed she wasn't real and, for a time, Magnus began to doubt if she was. But, in the end, he knew that was impossible. No one could just come up with a heroic mess like her. Isabelle Lightwood was all too real.

"What happened?" Magnus probes gently, not wanting to push him too far. Alec and Isabelle had something between them, something dark and horrible and beautiful and private, with no room for prying parents or other siblings or boyfriends. Magnus had never asked what it was, for fear of what the answer would be. Alec stares at the phone in his hand, still stunned at whatever he had just been told.

"She's been arrested."

Magnus is less shocked at the idea of her being arrested and more surprised that she had even been _found_. "For what?"

"Magnus…" Alec's voice shakes a little, his hands do too, and he reaches for his water and takes a sip before continuing. "By the angel, Magnus….they're saying that she killed someone."

And just like that, he's up and out the door. If it was anyone, anyone else who was being accused, Magnus would have thrown down two hundred dollars and followed him out. But it's Isabelle, _Isabelle_, and all Magnus can do it sit and watch Alec stumble out the door.

It's going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2: Chromium

_**Title:** The Central Science (2/?)  
**Author:** Gema  
**Word Count: **~2,000  
**Summary: **Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception.  
**Pairings:** Alec/Magnus, AlecxIsabelle, one-sided SimonxIsabelle  
**Warnings:** Nothing really, not yet. Will get worse in progressing chapters.  
**Disclaimer:** The characters (with the exceptions of Jason Clearwater and Robert Longfellow) and universe presented in this are property of Cassandra Clare, not me. I am merely a fan who writes for her own amusement.  
**Note:** Chapter two, ahoy! It's not the best, and I apologize, but I really like the next chapter so it should be marginally better. Thank you sososo much to Loki (xlokifoxx) who's my beta for this fic- she's a saint, I swear. Reviews are absolutely lovely and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :]_

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Chromium: (Cr) 24

A chemical element characterized by its high corrosion resistance and hardness.

:::

She is calm, beautiful, intensely still.

An angel. Untouchable.

The cell is nine feet wide and six feet tall. Just large enough for someone her size (five feet, ten inches) to have room to pace marginally. The walls are stark white, embellished with nothing expect a viewing window and exit door on the far wall. She has a cot (five feet, seven inches long. She has to curl up to sleep without her legs dangling off the end), a toilet and a sink. Nothing else. In Alicante, they do not allow their prisoners any sort of luxury. The walls have been built so that they lean in ever so slightly, not enough that one would initially notice, but enough so that, after sitting in the middle of those white walls, the prisoner in question would begin to develop a nagging sense of claustrophobia. The floor is almost as white as the walls, a few stains here and there and a general dankness to it, no doubt from the endless stream of feet shuffling across its surface.

And in the middle of all that, that dankness, that blank and never ending white- her. A vision in blue. She lifts her head, staring at the viewing window and (though Simon knows she cannot see him) for a moment he imagines that their eyes meet and once again, he's left breathless. It's been ten years and, at twenty-six, she hardly looks a day older then when she did when she was sixteen. (Granted, the fact that she looked twenty-six when she really _was _sixteen might have something to do with it.) She was wearing the clothes she had been arrested in- a blue summer dress and black stockings- but the knee-high blue leather stiletto boots she had been wearing had been confiscated, for obvious reasons. Instead, they had given her a pair of leather slippers, the type that dancers wore, with laces and a soft sole. They were a lot harder to fatally maim someone with, he supposes. The Council Guardsmen dragged her from an apartment in SoHo (whether it was hers or not was never asked) as she was sleeping so, for the first time since Simon can remember, he is seeing her face without her usual layer of makeup. No eyeliner, no lipstick, no foundation or eye shadow or mascara or blush.

With her hair messy and her face free of cosmetics and her jaw set defiantly against the world and whatever it may throw at her, Simon wonders if this is what she was like as a child.

The door behind him opens with a squeal of its hinges and he turns around to find who else but Alec Lightwood, standing awkwardly in the doorway. In direct contrast with his sister, he's aged twenty years, maybe more, in the time they've been apart. Not in his face, no, in his face he still is all and maybe less of his twenty-eight years, but in his eyes. Simon doesn't know what he's been doing with himself in the time they've been apart, but it's broken the man down in ways Simon has never seen. Maybe it's Magnus. Maybe it's just life in general.

"Evening, Councilman Lewis." At this point, Simon is used to the title. At first, when he had just been appointed, he would flinch every time someone used it. But it's been five years. He's adjusted.

"Good evening, Ale-Major Lightwood." He corrects himself just in time and Alec lets a small smile slip, perhaps to wave off this offense. Simon had heard of his promotion, but had never actually had to use the title on his old friend considering the fact the last time they saw each other was when Isabelle disappeared. "How're you faring?'

"Quite badly, actually. Mostly on account of this." Alec waves a pale hand to the figure behind the glass, his fingers trembling slightly, Simon notices. "How is she?"

"We can't really tell. She certainly didn't come in without a fight. Almost took a guardsmen's eye out with those damn boots of hers." Simon thinks he can detect the smallest grin flicker across Alec's face when he mentions that. "We confiscated the boots. They were too much of a hazard."

Alec nods, purses his lips. "Alright. She…" he pauses, staring at her. "She asked for me?" The end of his statement curls up, like he wants to make it a question but is too afraid to be granted an answer.

"She did, Major Lightwood." Alec drifts closer, reaches out an unsteady hand to press against the glass, his fingers flattening against its surface. "She wants to talk to you." He nods again, shuffles his feet a bit, his head practically lowered to the viewing window. Simon senses such privacy in the moment, as though Alec has forgotten all together that he's there. Standing against the back of the viewing vestibule, he watches.

The Lightwood siblings have never looked so similar, he thinks. Even after ten years apart, they're still IsabelleandAlec. AlecandIsabelle. A silence, not entirely uncomfortable, settles through the room, on either side of the glass, filling in the cracks of the desperation that was slowly, ever so slowly, beginning to pool into the room. Alec is the first to speak.

"Do you think she did it?"

Simon jumps slightly at the sound of his voice and his hand instinctively flies to his chest, flies to the heart that hasn't beaten since he was fifteen. "Did what?" It's one of those confusion things, where you understand the question someone asks you, but you're too distracted or too scatter-minded to respond right away, so your mind automatically throws out a "what" to stall for time, to buy some clarification.

"Do you think she murdered that man?"

Yes, exactly as he though. And, to be honest, he's not sure. Isabelle is capable of murder, that he knows all too well. But murder of demons. He's never seen her kill a human. Could she? But what he has seen- her, up to her ankles in inky black demonic fluids, the light in her eyes- as though her entire soul were on fire- as she would twist and turn, her whip moving so fast you could barely see it. He has seen that and he knows, he _knows_, that Isabelle could kill. Whether she would or not is still unclear.

"I don't know. I hope not. I think she could. But I'm not sure she did. Do you?" It's a dangerous question, one he regrets asking the moment it leaves his mouth, but Alec doesn't flinch. He doesn't even take his eyes off her.

"She's not the same." Simon detects a tension in his voice, his throat tight with fear or sorrow or disappointment. "Before she ran away, before Max died…I would have never thought her capable. Well, killing, of course. I knew she could kill. But it was demons, it was different. Not humans, never living, breathing people with souls and lives. But that was then. And she's different now, Simon. Something happened. Something broke her." Alec called him by his name. As far back as Simon can remember, Alec had never called him by his name, not like that, not like they were friends or confidants. It's a shock, but Alec doesn't seem to think much of it. His hand is still pressed against the viewing window, his arm outstretched, shaking with the amount of force he was using as he pressed his palm flat against the glass. His knuckles are bleached pure white from the pressure and his eyes are closed, his head bent.

Isabelle sits on the other side, oblivious to all of it, oblivious to her beloved brother just a few feet away from her. Simon looks to her again, to her posture, to her eyes. Alec was right, something did happen. She had gone through another change, another metamorphosis. And not necessarily for the better. Her jaw is set, not in strength or empowerment but in sheer willpower. He can see her arms, her shoulders, her face- her entire body is tense with the force of her determination. It's as though she thinks that, by keeping her body as tight as possible, by putting up every defense she is left with- she'll be able to keep her despair from spreading outwards and the rest of her soul will be safe.

Alec begins to say something and chokes on the words, almost like they're tears and he pulls his body parallel to the wall and his fist press against the glass and he _trembles_.

For the first time in a very long while, Simon is grateful that he will never have to grow old.


	3. Chapter 3: Astantine

**Title:** The Central Science (3/?)  
**Author:** Gema  
**Word Count: **~1,100  
**Summary: **Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception.  
**Pairings:** Alec/Magnus, AlecxIsabelle, one-sided SimonxIsabelle  
**Warnings:** Nothing really, not yet. Will get worse in progressing chapters.  
**Disclaimer:** The characters (with the exceptions of Jason Clearwater and Robert Longfellow) and universe presented in this are property of Cassandra Clare, not me. I am merely a fan who writes for her own amusement.  
**Note:** Hey guys :] Chapter threeee. and we get some nice pseudo Magnus- Isabelle interaction. Sorry it's so short :/ Chapter four is all done and Chapter five is currently in development hell. No beta this time, so please let me know of any errors you find! Thanks so much! Reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated :]

* * *

_Astatine: (At) 85_

_Produced by radioactive decay but, on account of its half life, is only found in minute amounts. Currently the rarest naturally-occurring element._

:::

Magnus decides, in the end, not to inform Alec of his decision to observe the first interrogation of the suspect Isabelle Lightwood.

He is not completely sure, but something tells him Alec would throw a fit.

The girl is calm, calmer then he would suspect, as she sits in the middle of her cot, legs folded in the-what do the mundane call it?-pretzel style. She faces the viewing window. There's fire in her eyes.

Her interrogator is a young man named Robert Longfellow. He's two years older than Alec and apparently his correct title is Captain Longfellow (which sounds to Magnus like the name of a terrible mixed drink) , as he is just under Alec in rank. Magnus did his fair share of poking around in the Council's files and suspects that Alec had something to do with the appointment of the Captain to his sister's case. In normal cases of being prosecuted by the Council, the Inquisitor was, by ex officio, the head investigator on the case. But, as Magnus and Alec knew all too well, the Inquisitor was hardly ever sympathetic to the suspect at hand. Longfellow seems honest enough and decidedly unbiased, though, in the end, Magnus wouldn't put it past him to use some dirt tactics on a suspect.

Magnus lurks in the vestibule, leaning against the far wall as Longfellow sits in a chair in front of the viewing window. The vestibule has been charmed, courtesy of Magnus himself, so that whenever Longfellow had his hands resting on that particular desk, anything he said would be projected into the holding cell. The cell had been charmed as well, long before Isabelle's arrival, by Ragnor Fell, as it so happened. He did a lot of work for the Council before his departure. (Magnus never likes to call it murder. Murder is an ugly word.) A large scroll sat in the farthest corner of the room, words etched across its surface from a mysterious hand. The particular charm worked much like a mundane sound recorder. Anything that was ever said in the holding cell was transcribed on the scroll and was could be erased after a particular case was finished. Ragnor had headed up the project on that one. The viewing window was enchanted too, working as a video camera of sorts as it could become a screen and allow the viewer to rewind the reel of the proceedings in the cell. Hell, Ragnor had more or less designed that one single handedly. Such a shame he wasn't around anymore. Magnus supposed he'd be quite helpful in the Lightwood siblings' current predicament.

Longfellow leans forward, brushing a few brown curls out of his eyes before clearing his throat and beginning.

"Ms. Lightwood."

Isabelle's back straightens at the call, her hands balling into fists as she stares directly at the window, though all she can see is her own reflection. Magnus tapped the wall behind him, muttering a few words to ensure that Longfellow's voice was projected into the room a bit too loudly. "Yes?" She calls back, trying as hard as she can to come off as surly rather than frightened.

"Isabelle Jane Lightwood, You have been arrested on the charge of the murder of Damien Woodbarrow, a man of Nephilim descent and a registered Shadowhunter. The Council long ago instated rules governing the prosecution of Nephilim. Are you aware of these rules?"

She answers back just as loudly. "Yes."

"We are allowed to keep you for thirty days. During this time, you will be interviewed by myself, Captain Robert Longfellow, and other members of the Council Investigative Services and we will gather evidence to be used in the case against you. As a member of the Nephilim, you are not appointed council, as our sympathies are with you. At the end of these thirty days, you will be held at trial. You will be judged by the Inquisitor, and the Lilithian, Lunar, Nocturne, and Seelious council members. They will come to a conclusion and this conclusion will be final. Do you understand?"

"Didn't just say that I understood? Don't treat me like I didn't grow up in this culture. I know the law just as well as you." She speaks to her own wide eyes and pale face, mirrored in the window. Magnus can see that she's gritting her teeth. More than anything, she hates being patronized.

"Of course, Ms. Lightwood. Is there anything you'd like to request before I go?"

A small grin flickers on her face, her hands relax, and her jaw loosens. "As I said when I was admitted, I'd like to speak to my brother."

Anger, unexplainable anger, flares up in Magnus's chest- blinding and white hot. He strides forward and pushes Longfellow's arms off the table; ignore the other man's protest as he sets his own palms flat against the wood. 'That will be all, Ms. Lightwood. Goodnight." Her forehead wrinkles as she recognizes his voice and he can see her mouth form his name, her head tilting sideways in confusion.

"Let's go." He barks at Longfellow as he strides towards the door, with every step his rage growing stronger and stronger till he thinks he just might break. "We're done here."

"But, Councilman Bane, I was given instructions to-" Longfellow babbles, his eyes (brown. Like hers. Muddy and disgusting.) widening in confusion.

"And I, enforcing my superior status as Councilmen, am over riding those instructions. You are finished here." Magnus yanks open the door and steps out into the hallway, but soon doubles back to poke his head in. "Raise the temperature in the cell by ten degrees."

"Councilman-" Longfellow begins to voice another protest but the words die in his throat as Magnus glares. "Alright. It will be adjusted by tomorrow morning."

Magnus can feel a grin spreading across his face, though he fights to keep it contained. He never thought of himself as a vengeful person. Maybe he was wrong all along. "Thank you for your cooperation, Captain. I'll be sure to put in a good word at the next Council meeting." He exits the room and strides down the hall, hearing Longfellow leave after him and shut the door.

Isabelle is left in the company of no one but her own reflection.


	4. Chapter 4: Potassium

_**Title:** The Central Science (4/?)  
**Author:** Gema  
**Word Count: **~1,500  
**Summary: **Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception.  
**Pairings:** Alec/Magnus, AlecxIsabelle, one-sided SimonxIsabelle  
**Warnings:** INCEST-Y GOODNESS  
**Disclaimer:** The characters (with the exceptions of Jason Clearwater and Robert Longfellow) and universe presented in this are property of Cassandra Clare, not me. I am merely a fan who writes for her own amusement.  
**Note:** Bonjour, ma copaines :) Chapter 5 is up and coming, but not quite done. I'm trying this thing where I can't post a written chapter until a new one is done/close to being done. Well I cheated this time because Ch.5 is like 1/8 of the way done but i figured I'd left you guys so long without an update, it would be only fair. This is officially the longest multi-chap I have ever written. I feel accomplished. :) Hugs and Kisses to Loki (xLokiFoxx) for beta-ing. She's a saint. Enjoy and please review :)_

* * *

Potassium: (K) 19

Elemental potassium oxidizes rapidly in air and is very reactive with water, generating sufficient heat to ignite evolved hydrogen.

:::

Alec reaches into his pocket for his badge as he approaches the guards stationed outside Isabelle's door and he's fairly surprised when they pull back without complaint, not asking for any identification or show of rank at all. He supposes it's his face- they must know he and Isabelle are related. Or maybe it's just him in general. As the first openly gay member of the guardsmen force, he's had his fair share of media coverage. It's the reason he stopped reading the papers.

The two guards nod to him as he opens the door to the viewing vestibule and he nods back, a mere formality, as he steps inside, gently closing the door behind him. The room is warm, warmer than usual and he checks the thermostat on the wall. The LED screen illuminates two side by side temperatures- the temperature of the vestibule and the temperature of the holding cell. He frowns, the vestibule is fine but the number displayed for the cell is too high by ten degrees. Must be a malfunction. He adjusts the thermostat to the right degree, ignoring how bad his hands shake. He's stalling for time and he knows it, but he allows himself to meander a few moments more in the room, paging through the manila file folder in this hand.

It comes to an end though, as everything must, and finally it's time to face the girl behind the glass. His palms break out in cold sweat and he wipes them on his pant leg, fiddling with the folder as his feet carry him closer and closer to the ever looming door. Before he knows it, his hand is turning the handle.

She jumps as the door opens, her body instinctively convulsing with shock. There's a metal table set up in the middle of the room, her cot pushed off to the side. Two chairs, one on either side. Not wanting to be a total loose-cannon he had followed all necessary protocol while arranging the interrogation- alerted the young man in charge of the case (Captain Robert Longfellow. Seemed like a very nice man.) and made sure that all documentation went through the database. If, a decade or two from now, someone felt the need to look up the case of LIGHTWOOD: Isabelle Jane (Murder [1st degree]), on the list of interrogations it would say exactly what it needed to say

SESSION #4

Date: 7-22-2027

Time: 13:00-13:30

Interrogator: LIGHTWOOD: Mjr. Alec Michael

Suspect: LIGHTWOOD: Isabelle Jane

They may be suspicious of the shared surname but it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. It would be another routine piece of data filed into the system, a run of the mill case that would never become a problem in the future, when it was all sorted out. He can't give Isabelle much, due to the position he's in, but he can keep this case wound up as tightly as possible. He can give her a future after the verdict is made.

Isabelle was probably informed beforehand that they were going to be speaking, but the surprise on her face is still palpable when he enters the room. "Alec." She chokes out his name, smiling- really smiling- for the first time in as long as he can remember. She jumps up, probably to run and embrace him, expecting him to do the same and he wants to- he really does want to hug her and hold her and be assured that she actually is real but he can't- he won't- because this is a case and if he wants to be able to lay a finger anywhere near it, he has to keep his own interests out of this.

"Ms. Lightwood, please take a seat." He's pleased with how steady his voice is. It's a lot shakier in his throat. Her smile fades a little and she sputters for a moment before he gestures to her chair and she sits down with a thump, as though her legs had given out.

"Ms. Lightwood-" he begins again and it's not so bad this time. His voice is stronger and his hands aren't shaking so badly anymore and his heart doesn't beat so madly against his rib cage that he thinks it may just give out at anytime.

"My name is Isabelle." She's grinding her teeth again, he can hear it, and for once, _her_ voice is shaking, with anger and shock and betrayal. "You _know_ that. You _know_ that my name is Isabelle." Her hands rest on the metallic table top, clenching into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

Alec takes a breath, his heart starts up again. Damn it all to hell. "I am Major Alec Lightwood and-"

"I know what your name is. You're my _brother_. " Her voice is low and dangerous and, by the Angel, he's never seen her so angry, so hurt. He continues on- noticing how the folder trembles in his grasp.

"And I will be assisting in your case. The Council will be prosecuting you to the full extent of the law-" He barrels on, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Alec…" It could almost be described as a whimper, really, the tone of her voice, raw with emotion. "Alec, please, please don't be like this…"

"The officer in charge of your case, as you know, is Captain Robert Longfellow and-"

"Alec, oh god, _please_. I _need_ you. Please don't be like this-"

"He will be the one testifying against you in your case, which will take place twenty seven days-"

"I know, Alec, I know, please stop, by the angel, just _stop_-"

He goes on, racing through a shattered mind. "And I will be assisting him occasionally. Please answer all the following questions thoroughly and truthfully, they can only help you in your trial-"

She speaks so fast, the words rushing together as she struggles to get them all out, afraid he might start talking again before she has time to explain herself. "" But he can't stop now, not for her, not for anyone. Her hand shoots out, reaches for his arm, he could swear she's on the verge of tears, this isn't happening and he jerks away, his chair legs screeching against the floor as he pushes back, bringing his arms close to his chest, hiding.

Isabelle is left with her arm outstretched, her fingers grasping at nothing but air. He can't look her in the eyes as he moves his chair back in and he swears his eyes are going to burn a hole in the damned manila folder.

She chuckles a little, dark and taunting. He looks up for a moment to see the top her of her head over the edge of the folder, moving back and forth as she shakes her head in… disgust? Amusement? Alec finally lowers the paper, stares her straight in the face. She's incredulous bordering on hysterical and when she meets his eyes; his voice dies in his throat.

"Honestly Alec? We don't see each other for six years and this is what we come to? In a jail cell? This is how we're going to be?" He doesn't know what to say to that- only that he wishes he didn't know how much this was killing her.

He gains volume as he speaks, his voice initially coming out as barely a whisper. "This is how we're going to be." Isabelle's eyes harden and he's recognizes that look, remembers it from all those years in battle. She's fighting now and he doesn't have enough wits to calculate the appropriate reaction so he stays silent a moment more. She reaches forward, rests her hand on top of his, entwining their fingers together. It's his first reaction to jerk back, to pull away but she had a death grip on his hand. He settles back into his chair and sits as still as a statue as her hand moves up, caressing his arm. It would be odd to say that he's terrified but, honestly, that's the only way he can describe it- this adrenaline-pumping, nerve wreaking, fear-inducing feeling that being in physical contact with her after all these years was giving him. He is scared. So incredibly scared. Scared of her. Scared of what she'll do to him. Scared of his inability to tell her 'no'.

"Why so quiet, brother?" Her voice changes from desperate to a tone he knows all too well. "Rethinking your stance?" He swallows heavily, grips the folder with his free hand like it's the last thing tethering him to earth. Isabelle studies him- he can feel the heat of her eyes on his face. He shrugs and swallows and her lips part in a smirk, a glimpse of white teeth showing through parted lips. He can see her mind working; can see through her eyes as all the wheels and cogs tick and tock inside her mind as she plots his demise.

He can't answer her, can barely even breathe and he finally realizes- this is how she will bring him down.

A lack of oxygen.


	5. Chapter 5: Silicon

_**Title:**__ The Central Science (5/?)  
__**Author:**__ Gema  
__**Word Count: **__~2,000  
__**Summary: **__Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception.  
__**Pairings:**__ Alec/Magnus, AlecxIsabelle, one-sided SimonxIsabelle  
__**Warnings:**__ Some shower time schenanigans between Alec and Magnus and some language, but I'm sure you're all used to it.  
__**Disclaimer:**__ The characters (with the exceptions of Jason Clearwater and Robert Longfellow) and universe presented in this are property of Cassandra Clare, not me. I am merely a fan who writes for her own amusement.  
__**Note:**__ You all have permission to burn me at the stake if I ever take so long on an update ever again._

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Silicon: (Si) 14

The eight most common metal in the universe, and the most common metalloid. Very rarely occurs as a free element in nature.

:::

The apartment is red and gold this week, in honor of Clary and Jace's anniversary. The festive colors are partially to celebrate the couple's nuptials and partially to remind Magnus to organize the damn party every time he walks in the door. He mentally adds "Call Maryse to plan guest list" to his ever-growing list of things to do. Magnus glances at the analog clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen. 1:05. Where was Alec?

It had been two weeks since the call at the dinner table that took Alec more or less out of Magnus's life. He can't remember the last time his boyfriend was home for dinner or was there in the morning when Magnus's 9:00 alarm went off. The stack of notes Alec leaves in the morning to explain his whereabouts is growing thicker and thicker. Magnus can't help but save them, the scraps of notebook paper held together with a purple rubber band, resting on the kitchen counter.

1:15. This was getting fairly ridiculous. Magnus reaches over and grabs the stack of notes, delicately unwinding the rubber band and casually flipping through them.

"_Stopped in to grab lunch. New case just came in, will be working very late. I'm so sorry. I'll see you when I get home. Love, - A."_

"_Clearwater called at about 4 this morning- they need me in until 6. I'll still go to the show with you; I'll just be a little late. Call me at 5:30 and we'll work something out. Love you, -A"_

"_M- Call me on my office phone. I can't make it to dinner tonight. I'm so so sorry. Tomorrow, maybe? We need to catch up. I love you, -A"_

They continued on like that, one right after the other. Any less wise, less confident person might have doubted Alec's fidelity, but not Magnus. The boy was honest as the day was long and besides, he didn't have the incentive or the ability to block his conscience enough to cheat. He falls asleep on the couch and is woken up by the sound of Alec's key turning in the lock. A quick glance at the clock lets Magnus know that it's 1:57 in the morning. He straightens up and calls out.

"Alec. Alec, honey, is that you?" Alec doesn't answer and Magnus looks up to see his boyfriend's tall, lanky frame in the doorway, backlit by the light coming in from the front hall. Magnus can't see his face, just his long, dark silhouette against the blinding white light. "Turn the light off, it's too goddamn bright." Alec obliges, still saying nothing. Magnus's eyes adjust immediately to the dark, one of the perks of being infected with demon blood, and he can see just as clearly as if the lights were still on. Alec's face is drawn, dark circles rimming him eyes. He has been home before 1:30 every night this week. He goes straight to bed and wakes up four hours later for work. It's no wonder he looks so worn out. "Do you want coffee? Something to eat? It didn't look like you came home for lunch." Alec shakes his head, taking off his dark wool coat and draping it over the back of the recliner before heading to the kitchenette, Magnus close behind.

"No. I just need water." Alec pulls open the fridge, the light from inside flooding out, illuminating his gaunt face, five o'clock shadow stubbling his cheeks. Magnus snaps his fingers in the direction of Alec's coat and it disappears from sight, moved to the coat rack in the closet by the front door.

He's not terribly pleased with the tone Alec is taking with him. All Magnus is trying to do is be nice- angel knows why, seeing at Alec hasn't quite been making up for his recent absences. "Do you want food or something? I could-"

"I'm _fine_, Magnus." Alec snaps, slamming the door of the fridge and turning around to look at him. Magnus can immediately see the regret flash in his eyes and knows he feels bad for being so harsh, but something happened at work or something's been happening at work and Alec's too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to bring himself to apologize. But his body apologizes, in the sagging shoulders and the slight droop of his lower lip. Damn it all to hell. Magnus loves him so damn much. Alec sighs and walks out of the kitchen, towards the bedroom. Magnus senses that maybe it's time to pull back and just let things lie for the night. Alec's too tired to cooperate right now.

He rests against the doorframe of the bedroom, watching Alec unbutton his Oxford shirt and toss it at the general area of the dresser. His pants follow close behind as Alec ungracefully steps out of them and gives a lame kick to send them two inches in the same direction. Magnus gives a low wolf whistle in an attempt to lighten the tension and, to his surprise, it works a little bit. Alec glances up from under his fringe of hair (He needs a damn haircut. What is his aversion to keeping his physical appearance tidy?) and smiles sleepily before padding into the bathroom, clad only in his socks and boxers. The sleepy grin encourages Magnus enough to follow him, laughing to himself as he sees Alec's boxers and socks fly out of the bathroom doorway and onto the carpet. He hears the shower turn on and a small intake of breath from Alec as he steps into the water. It's incredibly sexy.

"Knock knock." It's his usual way to announce his entrance. It's his own apartment, he shouldn't have to knock.

"Go away." Alec teases, peeking out from behind the powder blue shower curtain.

"Not a chance." Magnus responds, pulling off his purple silk pajama bottoms and matching shirt and stepping into the shower. He wraps his arms around Alec's waist before Alec has time to step away and order him out. It's been so long since he's felt this- the slickness of their bodies together with nothing in between. Not that their recent sex has been bad, per say. Just lacking, on both their parts, in intimacy. He kisses Alec on the mouth, feeling the hot water from the showerhead rain down on him and trickle over his back. His hands drift lower and lower, over Alec's stomach and hips and lower still. To his surprise, Alec fusses, pressing his hands against Magnus's bare chest in an attempt to push him away. Magnus steps back a few inches, the rejection stinging like a bullet wound. "What the hell is wrong?" he demands. The cold air seeping in through the crack between the shower curtain and the wall raises goose bumps along his skin. 'What did I do to piss you off so badly?" Alec opens his mouth to respond but Magnus shakes his head. He doesn't want to hear another fucking excuse. "Let me guess. Work? Again?"

"Magnus, I-" Alec starts but Magnus steps out of the shower and grabs his robe from the hook on the back of the door. Alec follows him, picking up a towel that was lying on the floor. It was probably dirty. Alec really had no sense of proper hygiene. Magnus whips around to face him. He shouldn't be this angry over something so little- Alec's tired and overworked and it's not like he yelled at Magnus or anything. But Magnus feels he's entitled to throw at least a small fit, seeing as how Alec is refusing to give him any sort of concrete explanation for his behavior.

"If you're planning on giving me another bullshit excuse, and we both know you are, if it contains the words 'work' or any variation thereof, I swear, I am walking out and I am not coming back here until Sunday." His anger rises every time he opens his mouth and he wishes he could stop, because Alec looks so pathetic and apologetic standing there, pressing a towel to his front and shaking in the cold.

"Magnus, I swear-" Magnus turns to walk away into the bedroom but Alec grabs his shoulder with his free hand. "Magnus, I swear it's nothing you did, it's not you-"

"Alec, I'm trying to get you off in shower and you don't even get hard!" Magnus shouts, pulling away and walking into the bedroom. "Am I doing something wrong? Please, by all means, tell me because I am absolutely stupefied as to what could be eliciting this kind of behavior from you."

"It's just work, Magnus, and this case-"

"It's not about the goddamn case! We both fucking know that!"

Even Magnus is surprised at the anger in his voice. Alec physically shrinks back into the bathroom, adjusting the towel to wrap it around himself. Magnus wants so badly to apologize but it's like trying to soothe an animal after you've just fired a shot at it. No matter what kind of advance he makes, Alec is still going to try and bite his hand.

"I'm going to shower." Alec says after a few seconds of crippling silence. "And when I come out and we've both calmed down, we can talk about this." Magnus nods curtly and slams the door of the bathroom, much harder than he meant to.

Magnus lies on the bed, turning onto his side so that his back is facing the bathroom door. He doesn't want to talk, not tonight. He listens for any sounds Alec might be making in the other room and can't quite pick any up. After about five minutes, he hears the shower water shut off and the door open. Alec climbs into bed next to him and Magnus can feel Alec's bare chest pressing against his back as Alec leans forward to kiss him on the back of his neck.

"I'm so sorry, Magnus." He whispers, moving to get closer to him. Magnus remains wordless, his pride preventing him from saying anything. But when Alec begins to attempt to wriggle his arm between Magnus's side and the bed so he can hold him by the waist, Magnus lifts himself up slightly to make it easier. Alec doesn't have to hear him say that the apology is accepted; he already knows. He knew the minute he walked out of the bathroom door that Magnus would forgive him.

They fall asleep that way- on top of the covers, Alec's arms around his waist, his knees fitting perfectly into the backs of Magnus's, as though nature had crafted them purely for the purpose of interlocking . It is 2:34 AM and Magnus is truly happy.

When he wakes up in the morning, in Alec's place is yet another note.

"_I'm sorry about last night. I love you so much. Don't think I forget about the party tonight. I promise I'll be home in time. Maybe we can have dinner beforehand? Call me at the office around lunchtime. I love you, -A"_


	6. Chapter 6: Carbon

_**Title:**__ The Central Science (6/?)  
__**Author:**__ Gema  
__**Word Count: **__~2,500  
__**Summary: **__Science is messy. Substances reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception.  
__**Pairings:**__ Alec/Magnus, AlecxIsabelle  
__**Warnings:**__ Probably the tamest chapter yet  
__**Disclaimer:**__ The characters (with the exceptions of Jason Clearwater and Robert Longfellow) and universe presented in this are property of Cassandra Clare, not me. I am merely a fan who writes for her own amusement.  
__**Note: **__Probably my quickest update yet. That's embarrassing. Filler chapter alert. This chapter is a big long excuse to write some Clary/Alec bonding, my favorite kind of bonding. Also, some cute SusieHomemaker!Clary and some JacexClary fluffiness. Which I suck at writing, so forgive me. No beta so sorry for any mistakes :(_

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_Carbon: (C) 6_

_The 15th most abundant element on Earth, It is present in all known life forms._

:::

"Magnus couldn't make it?" Clary asks, tilting her head so that her spill of red curls falls over her shoulder. Alec shakes his head as he hangs his coat on the shiny metal coat rack that stands in the spacious foyer of Clary and Jace's new house.

It was situated in the stylish and socially affluent Clearwater district, named for a Nephilim general who lead the Seventeen Regiment to victory during the Invasion of 1918. Alec sensed that neither Clary nor Jace really wanted such a large, not to mention expensive, home, but Maryse had insisted on it. Alec figures that as the mother of an infamous daughter thought by most to be the stuff of legends and a son who's appointment to the guardsmen force had been one of the most controversial decisions the Clave had made in years (not to mention the loss of Max), her desire to instill Clary and Jace into a normal, if high-end but rarely scandalous social climate was her last attempt at producing a normal child.

As though you could ever call a Nephilim child, raised to kill and dispose of evil beings bent of the destruction of human kind, "normal".

He was over for the monthly Lightwood Family dinner. He, Clary, Jace, Maryse, Robert and occasionally Aline and the rest of the Penhallows, gathered somewhere to wine and dine and catch up with one another. This time was different, though. He was there with a purpose.

Isabelle had long become a forbidden topic within the family. No one spoke of her, not while his parents were in present company. She was the second child they had lost and there eventually came a time where they had come to terms with the idea that she was gone and never coming back. But Alec had _found_ her. She was here, sitting inside a jail cell not ten miles away from Jace and Clary's fancy neighborhood and his parents had no idea. As the case was high priority and still ongoing and a relative (Alec) had been notified, the guardsman force was not required to alert the elder Lightwoods of their daughters arrest. If they wouldn't tell his parents, Alec would. He couldn't have lived with himself if he didn't tell them what had happened to his sister.

'The house looks nice." He assures Clary, patting her on the shoulder. The first rocky months of animosity that had filled their relationship had drained away over the years, leaving behind an at-times highly awkward affection.

'Don't tell me." Clary brushes off the compliment, beckoning him to follow her out of the foyer and into the kitchen, which reminds him of the Institute's, dark granite counters and antique looking appliances. He had figured that Jace would want to bring a little bit of New York with them here. "Thank your mom. She brought in someone to do all this. The only thing she consulted me on was what shade to paint a few of the rooms." She assumes a high backed stance, standing with her hands out in front of her, pantomiming the act of holding two color cards. "What do you think looks better for the master bathroom, Clary?" she says in a dead-on impersonation of her mother-in-law. "Ecru or beige?"

Alec barely has time to laugh before the doorbell rings again and Clary inhales sharply. 'Speak of the devil and she will appear." She laughs nervously before rushing off to go greet his parents. No matter how long she stays in the family, Alec is pretty sure that Clary will never be comfortable with his mother. His mom was dominant, imposing and liked to be in charge. Some people just never can get used to that.

"Alexander!" She calls as she steps out from the foyer, her arms open wide and a smile beaming on her face.

He grins and accepts her hug before turning to his father. It might be Alec's imagination, but his salt-and-pepper hair looks greyer than it did last time they got together for dinner. That thought scares him, the idea of his parents growing old. "Hey dad." He hugs his father too, but it's not the same. They never talked about it, the whole gay thing, not even after his very public coming out all those years ago. Mom took it better than Dad, by far. He gives his dad credit though. You could never say that he hadn't tried to accept Alec for what he was. And in a way he did. Alec was still his son, and he loved him, come what may. But no matter how many times Alec and Magnus had them over for dinner, no matter how hard Alec tried, his dad was never going to be 100% comfortable with it. It didn't mean his dad loved him any less and it didn't mean that Alec loved his dad any less. It was kind of the way that some people reacted to his mother. There are certain parts of a person you just never get used to.

:::

They have drinks in the living room, with its panel of floor to ceiling windows and the stunning view of downtown Alicante. He pays compliments to his mom on the house and she brushes it off like it was nothing but blushes with pride at the same time. Cooking and decorating- her two guilty pleasures. His father always joked that she would've made an excellent mundane housewife. From conversations with his father, he's gathered that now that his parents are retired from active duty, she's allowed herself to indulge a little more in her hobbies when the Clave Council is out of session and her term as the Consul of Defense is over for the year.

"Good choice on going with yellow for this room." He adds. His mom shakes her head as she sips her wine.

"It's called arylide, dear."

"Pardon?" Arylide?

"It's not yellow, it's arylide."

A few minutes later, when he and Clary venture into the kitchen to refill everyone's glasses, he asks her.

"Arylide? Is that even a real thing?"

Clary shakes her head sadly as she pours. "Unfortunately, yes. It's a real thing. A color, in fact."

"Well, I feel dumb."

"Don't worry about it. The only reason I knew what it was when she brought it up was from my art classes."

"How's that coming along, by the way?" It had been so long since she had brought up her drawings, he had almost forgotten she possessed so much artistic talent.

Clary shrugged, topping off her glass with a bit more wine. "Haven't had much time in the past few weeks. And I won't for a while."

"And why's that?' He's curious now. Clary loved to draw and paint. He couldn't fathom what was going on that would prevent her from doing it. Clary just grins. And there's something behind that grin, something so secretive and joyous that he can't help but smile back."

"I have to wait until Jace gets here. I want to tell everyone at the same time."

Jace gets home about twenty minutes later. For the first eight years following Valentine's downfall, he and Clary were stationed in Chicago, then Boston, then Paris. Paris had only lasted a few weeks. Jace had dedicated a majority of his free time to a complete and total butchery of the French language. That is to say, he couldn't speak a word of it, not after months and months of classes in advance. So he resolved to only learn what he needed to, which apparently consisted of eight or nine basic verbs, household nouns and every swear word and insult he could pick up. They were dispatched out of France within seventeen days.

As passive-aggressive punishment, he had been assigned a temporary desk job at the Hall of Accords, a job which was driving him insane. He hated it and he had a large calendar hanging in the kitchen, where he had gotten Clary to draw balloons and ponies around the box for September 9th, the day when his employment contract ran out and he could enter back into active duty. In the meantime, he had gotten one of their witch friends to enchant a small portion of the wall to display how many days he had left. You could indeed say that he was a man obsessed. Clary, due to her unusual power, was not allowed to disclose much about where she worked. It was some secret sect of the Clave and it paid very handsomely, but that was all Alec knew.

Jace almost tackles him when he sees Alec standing in the kitchen. "I've missed you, you ducking glass mole." Jace admits wryly, disguising the name so that their parents won't yell at them for using language.

"How many more days?" Alec asks. Jace points triumphantly to the large blue "39" displayed on the wall.

"39 more horrible, soul destroying days. And then I'm done and they can all kiss my ass as I walk back to New York." The timer on the stove starts buzzing and Clary rushes in, grabbing on oven mitt from the counter and yanking open the stove door. Jace wraps his arms around her waist and kisses the back of her head. "Hi, love." Clary turns around in his arms and gives him a proper kiss.

"Hi yourself. Your parents are in the living room. Go say hi. And I need to get dinner out of the oven before it's burnt beyond repair." Jace rolls his eyes playfully and kisses her once more before letting go. It's times like these that the empty space where Isabelle would be throbs painfully in Jace and Alec's hearts. A moment in the Institute's kitchen hardly passed without some jab at Isabelle's cooking, or a jab at their bodies with Isabelle's favorite wooden spoon, which she could use handily as a weapon when hard pressed. But now that there's no Isabelle to make fun of, and no Isabelle to whip cooking utensils at their heads, something seems off-kilter. Clary hauls a large black cooking dish out of the oven. You wouldn't think she had enough strength in her to pick up the pan itself, not to mention the ham inside it. "Go tell Robert and Maryse that dinner's almost ready. Alec, can you put the butter and the bread on the table? Shit, I think I messed up this seasoning. Taste this for me, would you, Jace?" Clary holds out a small piece of ham for him.

Alec is sick to his stomach. Not from the slightly nauseating perfection of his brother's marriage, but from the fact that he's about to ruin it. There is no doubt in his mind that his news about Isabelle is going to have consequences. Not even he can predict what his family's reaction to it is going to be.

Dinner is nice, if slightly stilted. It's like the universe knows he has something important to say tonight and keeps giving him gaps in the conversation and moments to say it, but he continues to shy away. He doesn't want to break the fragile, cherished sense of happiness and family. But he doesn't really have a choice, does he? He clears his throat.

"Um. There's something I need to tell you guys about."

Unfortunately, he says this at the exact same time that Clary and Jace exchange glances and Clary says "Jace and I have an announcement." Cue awkward pause. Cue Alec insisting that they go first.

Clary grins again, that beautiful smile that makes her seem like she's going to explode with joy. "Out with it!" his father encourages. She looks to Jace again and takes a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant!" she exclaims and it takes a second for the news to sink in. He thinks his mother and Clary both are about to pass out from happiness when it finally does. Hugs are exchanged all around and he claps Jace on the back and says he's proud of him and that, look on the bright side, he'd be hard pressed to top Valentine in the "worst dad" department.

The news couldn't have come at a worse or better time. He's saved from having to break the news to his parents about Isabelle, but now when is he supposed to tell them? Not tonight, that's for sure.

Jace pulls him aside later, after his parents have headed home and Clary went upstairs. "You wanted to say something else at dinner?" A lump forms in Alec's throat. He could tell Jace. He should tell Jace. But something in him just won't let him.

"It was nothing." He assures him, grabbing his coat and putting it on. Jace stops him.

"It sounded like something." Alec swallows twice, trying to come up with an excuse to gracefully or not so gracefully make his exit.

"Something with you and Magnus?"

"Not quite."

"C'mon, Alec. Don't be like this. Let me in on the secret."

In the end, Jace is still Jace and Alec can't deny him. 'It was about Isabelle." Jace's face goes ashen and he looks over his shoulder to the staircase behind them.

"Have they found her?"

Alec hesitates and that's the only answer Jace needs.

"By the _Angel_." He slaps his palm against the wall in anger. Alec can see a new thought, a horrible thought pop into his head. "Is she… she isn't…she's not dead, is she?" Alec shakes his head.

"Still alive. But in a lot of trouble."

'What kind of trouble?"

"The Woodbarrow case. That kind of trouble." He can see the pieces come together.

"They think she…She's being accused of the murder? Who's appointed to the case?" Jace demands.

"Longfellow." Jace relaxes. Longfellow must have Jace's seal of approval.

"Are you pulling strings?" It's Jace's belief that family members should not arrange things for other family members, but this time it's an exception.

"Every one that I can. But it's bad, Jace. I'm not going to lie." Jace rubs his face.

"It's good that you didn't tell Mom and Dad, though. They don't need to hear this. They think she's dead."

"I know."

"Keep it that way."

That enrages Alec. "No. We are telling them." Jace just shakes his head, says that it's best to wait until everything is settled. Maryse will try and pull strings too, he reasons. Who knows if Isabelle even wants to see them?

"Just do what you can for now. I'll think about when we should tell them. Keep an eye on her, for me, alright?"

"Alright." Alec puts his coat on and turns to leave. "And Jace?"

"Yeah?"

"Congrats about the baby."

Despite everything, Jace smiles.

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_A/N: I realllly do hate whoring for reviews :/ But I'm so nervous as to the direction that this fic is going, so any feedback would be so so so much appreciated!_


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